


Snowbird, The Beginning.

by Airgetnyan



Series: Snowbird, a Monochrome Anthology. [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 04:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14370780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airgetnyan/pseuds/Airgetnyan





	Snowbird, The Beginning.

At Beacon University, some things had come to be regarded as unchangeable absolutes. Professor Port’s lectures would always drag on for what seemed to be more hours than were even in a day, Dr. Oobleck’s classes would only go on as long as his supply of coffee lasted, Professor Goodwitch’s surprise test were an experience akin to that of being suddenly told you had only one minute left to live, and there was almost always someone playing the baby grand in the Atlas donated teaching wing during the evening. Of all these absolutes, Blake Belladonna found the most comfort in the last one.

  
Having been a student there for a full year now, she had only recently begun regarding these “absolutes” as such, and having spent most of her time outside of her classes in one of the lecture theatres the Atlas Teaching Complex, she had often found herself an unwilling audience to the impromptu recitals of those who would practice their musical talent, or express their lack of said talent. It was on one of these evenings that the music from the piano actually managed to take ahold of her full attention.  
Notes weaved in and around her ears, painting her a musical landscape, and she was bewitched. Her steps took her entranced self to the door of the room that the baby grand called home, and she cracked open the door soundlessly, her years of honing her actions and movements to be as soundless as possible allowing her to enter and close the door with naught but a whisper of air to show for it. The pianist’s playing gave no indication that she was noticed, providing a relief she was unaware she had wanted. The music still tugged at her entire being, drawing her in like a marionette being reeled in by its strings. Marionette was the best word to describe how she felt right now, a living puppet. The music was all she cared about, and finding the phantom musician who had captured her essence was like a primal instinct. She looked up towards the other side of the room, gaze led her to the piano on the other side of the room, and inevitably, to the one playing it.

  
The first word that ran through her mind when she saw the girl was ‘snowbird’. Her hair was like threaded snow, long silky strands of white put up in a side ponytail. She was small, her petite frame seeming even tinier on the piano bench. She was going to attempt to greet her, but was stopped as the tiny pianist began to sing. Her voice transfixed Blake, so much so that she couldn’t fully understand what she was singing. Her voice was ambrosia for Blake’s sense of hearing, something she didn’t know she’d needed to hear until she heard it. On an instinctual level, she could feel the sadness in the song this girl sang. It permeated Blake’s being, but sadness was not the only thing within the song. There was loneliness, a desolation that ran throughout it like a river’s current. There was anger, making itself known in harsh, powerful strokes on the keys, a slight trembling of that divine voice in a wrath unknown to Blake. What struck Blake the most, however, were the hints of hope that seemed to be blossoming as the girl sang, growing stronger and stronger, rushing through Blake, enveloping her being in rays of light that cut through the darkness that she’d lived with, at times even welcomed, for all of her life. The tears came to her eyes unbidden, and she didn’t dare to move, for fear of interrupting the spell being woven around her, and on her.

  
Soon, far too soon for Blake’s liking, the song ended, and silence settled over the lecture theatre. Blake gasped and shuddered, a voiceless sob. The girl at the piano whirled, eyes wide and face set in shock and the beginning hints of indignation, before she fully took in the crying girl before her. Blake was on the verge of fully crying, her golden eyes watery, her breaths coming in ragged bursts. The pianist’s shock gave way to worry and alarm. She quickly rose, and much to both of their surprise, walked over to Blake and hugged her before either of them were entirely aware of what was going on. She was warm, Blake observed absently, but the sudden comfort she felt in this warmth was enough to send her over the edge, and she broke down crying in the girl’s arms. The sobs were soft, but they were numerous. The girl never made an attempt to dislodge her, however. Her hands rubbed Blake’s back, and her grip remained firm but comforting.

  
At some point, Blake reciprocated the unexpected hug, and the pianist smiled softly, for reasons she herself didn’t fully understand. She hadn’t planned on having an audience for her playing, and certainly hadn’t expected to be comforting a crying stranger afterwards, but somehow, she found she didn’t mind. This girl needed help, and she was the one who was going to give it. This resolve made her blush slightly, but she cleared her head and refocused. The other girl’s crying was slowing down, softening from outright wails to small hiccups, and the pianist took the time to look into her crying companion’s eyes. She saw an upheaval of emotions in Blake’s liquid gold eyes, but when they looked into Weiss’ own icy blue counterparts, there was an overwhelming gratitude, as well as something else she couldn’t quite place. Blake’s tan skin showed a slight rosy hue, half because of the act of her crying, and half because she just realized she’d been crying into the arms of this girl for what had to have been 15 minutes at least.  
Blake slowly disentangled herself from the pianist, and once finished, was about to begin profusely apologizing, but her snowbird had other ideas. As soon as Blake began to open her mouth, the other girl put a delicate finger to her lips, silencing her and intensifying the blush still on her face. She took her gently by the hand, and led her to the piano bench, sitting down and indicating that Blake should do the same. She complied, confused but intrigued. As she sat, the pianist turned to her, smiling softly, and introduced herself. Weiss Schnee. Blake drank in the sound of her voice saying her name, burning it into her memory so there was no chance to forget it. Blake felt it only fair that she returned the favor, and in a voice that was only slightly raspy from crying, she told Weiss her name. Blake Belladonna. Weiss’ smile grew larger at that, and she turned cheerfully back to the piano, stretching her arms above her head before settling them on the keys before her.

  
She began to play anew, and this time, it took the setting sun for both of them to realise it was time to go. Weiss pulled out her phone as they were getting up to go, opening up the new contact screen and giving it to Blake. Blake looked at her in surprise, before an irresistible smile crept onto her face and she entered her contact information, even taking a quick picture of herself to place as the contact image. She took out her own phone, opening the new contact screen for Weiss to do the same. She happily obliged, and the two pocketed their phones, now more precious objects for the addition of such vital information. They walked off through the doors on the two side of the lecture theatre, Blake with her heart racing and her mind soaring, and Weiss with her stomach doing gymnastics and her mind imagining all sorts of potential scenarios, more than a few of which necessitated a shake of her head to banish… at least, in public. She felt her phone buzz, and felt a rush of excitement as she thought of what her first text from Blake would be. It was only a simple thank you, along with an invitation to spend some more time together to get to know each other, but Weiss tapped out a reply at a speed that surprised Blake, who very quickly received a message stating that she was glad to be able to help, and that she would enjoy spending more time together, saying to meet her in that same lecture theatre at a time of her choosing so they could do just that. Blake smiled happily, and started tapping out a reply as she boarded the bus. The messages would flow between them until well after midnight, when both participants simply fell asleep with their phones still in hand, and each other on their minds.


End file.
